


Cygnus cygnus

by Lys ap Adin (lysapadin)



Category: Phantom of the Opera
Genre: F/F, Pre-Canon, character exploration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-19
Updated: 2007-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-02 05:08:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysapadin/pseuds/Lys%20ap%20Adin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meg knows Christine will not stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cygnus cygnus

**Author's Note:**

> Pick a canon, any canon, movie-verse, book-verse, musical-verse, all will do!

** _Cygnus cygnus_ **

Sometimes, late at night, in the narrowness of her bed, Meg thinks of Christine, and how she would feel--the curve of her collarbone under smooth skin, her heart beating wild and fast like a bird's, her entire body slight, with hardly any weight to her at all. The Christine in Meg's mind is practically insubstantial, liable to take wing and fly at any moment.

Christine does not belong here at the opera, not really.

She dances well, and sings like an angel--oh, Christine doesn't think anyone knows about her singing lessons, but Meg was born and bred under this roof, and while she doesn't know all the secrets the building holds, she does know all the secrets Christine keeps.

But for all her talent, Christine is separate, not a part of the chorus: not an ugly duckling among ducks, perhaps, or even a duck among swans--a black swan among white? No, Meg decides, a white swan among black, like but not like, and one day she will realize this and fly away to be with her own kind.

Meg will miss her terribly when she goes, and wonders what it would take to keep her here, with her, in this world of black swans, but she can't think of a way to do it. Christine isn't a wild swan. She needs a placid pond in a manicured park, not the storms at sea, tempest that may batter but also invigorate--the wildness that calls to the soul.

Meg harbors no illusions that she could wake that spark of wildness in Christine; if the Phantom himself, the very embodiment of the Opera's wildness that he is, cannot do it, what hope does she have? She is nothing half so powerful. She is a sister, a friend, a sometime confidante. She is a part of the darkness, too, and what Christine wants is the light.


End file.
